They were attending an evening party at Osbaldestone House. Standing by the chaise on which Serena sat conversing with Lady Chadwick, Alathea scanned the crowd gathered to celebrate Lady Osbaldestone's sixtieth birthday. For her purpose, the setting was perfect.
Two days had passed since their unplanned meeting at Lincoln's Inn, two days in which Gabriel should have investigated the company's agent and his place of business. It was time for the countess to ask for a report.
Before her, the flower of the ton mingled and met. There was no dancing, just a string quartet installed in an alcove, vainly striving to be heard over the din. Talk-gossip and repartee-were the primary occupations of the evening, activities at which the guest of honor excelled.
Lady Osbaldestone was sitting on a chaise facing the room's center. Alathea glanced her way. The old lady thumped her cane on the floor, then pointed it at Vane Cynster, currently standing before her. Vane stepped back as if taking refuge behind the willowy figure of his wife. Alathea had met Patience Cynster in the park a few days before. Patience curtsied with unruffleable calm before her ladyship.
Alathea wished she had a little more patience-her eyes strayed to the clock for the third time in ten minutes. It was not yet ten o'clock; the party had barely begun. Guests were still arriving. Gabriel was already here, but it was too early for the countess to materialize.
The Cynsters were here en masse, Lady Osbaldestone being a connection. Alathea was watching two beauties presently holding court under Gabriel's oddly unimpressed eye when long fingers wrapped about her elbow.
"Welcome to town, my dear."
The fingers slid down to tangle with hers and briefly squeeze. Alathea turned, a smile lighting her face. "I wondered where you were." She ran an appreciative glance over the tall, dark-haired, dark-garbed figure beside her. "Now what am I supposed to call you-Alasdair? Or Lucifer?"
His smile flashed, the pirate beneath the fashionable facade showing briefly. "Either will do."
Alathea raised a brow. "Both accurate?"
"I do my poor best."
"I'm sure you do." She looked across the room. "But what's he doing?"
Lucifer followed her gaze to his brother. "Guard duty. We take turns."
Alathea studied the girls and caught the resemblance. "They're your cousins?"
"Hmm. They don't have an older brother to watch over them, so we do. Devil's in charge, of course, but he's not often in town these days. Very busy taking care of the ducal acres, the ducal purse, and the ducal succession."
Alathea's gaze shifted to the tall, striking figure of the Duke of St. Ives. "I see." Devil was paying amazingly close attention to a haughtily commanding lady standing by his side. "The lady with him…?"
"Honoria, his duchess."
"Ah!" Alathea nodded; Devil's intent gaze was now explained. She'd met all Gabriel's and Lucifer's male cousins occasionally over the years; she had no difficulty picking them out from the crowd. The family resemblance was definite, their general handsomeness a byword, although they were all identifiably distinct, from Devil's striking, piratical looks, to Vane's cool grace, to Gabriel's classical features and Lucifer's dark beauty. "I can't see the other two." She scanned the crowd again.
"They're not here. Richard and his witch are resident in Scotland."
"His witch?"
"Well, his wife, but she truly is a witch of sorts. She's known as the Lady of the Vale in those parts."
"Indeed?"
"Mmm. And Demon's busy escorting his new wife on a prolonged tour of the racetracks."
"Racetracks?"
"They have a shared interest in racing Thoroughbreds."
"Oh." Alathea checked her mental list. "That leaves only you two still unwed."
Lucifer narrowed his eyes at her. "Et tu, Brute?"
Alathea smiled. "Merely an observation."
"Just as well, or I might be tempted to point out that those who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones."
Alathea's smile didn't waver. "You know I've decided marriage isn't for me."
"I know you've told me so-what I've never understood is why."
Shaking her head, she looked away. "Never mind." Her gaze returned to the two blond beauties chatting gaily, studiously ignoring Gabriel's lounging, deliberately intimidating presence mere yards away. "Your young cousins-are they twins?"
"Yes. This is their second Season, but they are only eighteen."
"Eighteen?" Alathea glanced at Lucifer, then back at the girls, confirming the modish gowns a touch more elegant than permissable for a girl in her first Season, the more sophisticated hairstyles, the assurance in the girls' gestures. Considering Gabriel watching over them like a potentially lethal avenging angel, Alathea shook her head. "What on earth does he-you-think you're doing? If they're eighteen… why"-she swung to look at Mary and Alice talking in a group nearby-"Alice is only seventeen."
"She is?" Lucifer turned to stare at Mary and Alice. "Good Lord-I didn't notice they were here." He frowned, then glanced across the room at his cousins. "If you'll excuse me?"
Without waiting for an answer, he swooped on Mary and Alice. With effortless charm, he detached them from their circle. One on each arm, he bore them across the room. Alathea watched, the question of what he was doing fading from her mind as the answer presented itself. He introduced her sisters to his cousins-a moment later, he slipped away from the enlarged circle now containing all four young ladies surrounded by a bevy of exceedingly safe, exceedingly careful young gentlemen.
The pleased-with-himself look on Lucifer's face as he slid into the crowd had Alathea shaking her head, not in wonder so much as resignation. She'd been the recipient of the protectiveness of Cynster males often enough to recognize the impulse. Knowing she was supposed to approve, although she wasn't at all sure she did, she smiled in reply to Lucifer's questioning glance.
Lucifer headed for Gabriel. Smoothly, Alathea joined the circle about Serena's chaise. From the comer of her eye, she watched Lucifer explain his new arrangement; Gabriel nodded and passed the watch to Lucifer. Lucifer pulled a face but acquiesced, taking Gabriel's place by the wall.
Alathea darted a glance at the clock. Perfect. Lucifer's maneuvers were going to prove unexpectedly helpful; for the next hour she felt sure she could rely on him and his fair cousins to keep Mary and Alice happily occupied. And any minute now…
Majestic, yet blending into the glittering scene, Lady Osbaldestone's butler cleaved through the crowd. He stopped before Gabriel and presented a silver salver. Gabriel lifted a note from the salver, dismissing the butler with a nod. Opening the folded sheet, he scanned it, then refolded it and slipped it into his pocket.
The entire proceedings had taken no more than a minute-unless one had been watching Gabriel specifically, in the crush, nothing would have been seen. Not a flicker of expression betrayed his thoughts-on anything.
Trusting he'd respond to the instructions in the note, Alathea looked away, giving her attention to Serena and her neighbors until it was time for her next move.
She reached the gazebo five minutes early, already slightly breathless. She told herself it was because she'd hurried, because she'd kept trying to watch in every direction at once to make sure no one saw her slip away. The vise locked about her lungs owed nothing to the fact that she was soon to meet Gabriel-not Rupert, but his far more dangerous alter ego-once more in the dark of night.